


Orphan's Anniversary

by howardently



Series: Orphans. [5]
Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:11:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howardently/pseuds/howardently
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Images:  Peter Paul Reubens,  “The Disembarkation at Merseilles” and Yayoi Kusama, The Firefly Room</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He likes to watch her get dressed. He just likes to look at her, regardless of what she’s doing, really. There’s something intimate about watching her put her clothes on, about seeing her brush out her hair and swipe on her mascara. He’s transfixed. She’s not super comfortable with it yet; it’s still a fairly new development. She moves just a little bit stiffer, more controlled, when she knows he’s watching, but he doesn’t care.

“Are you just going to lie about all day?” She asks disdainfully, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder to put an earring in. He’s spread long-ways across the bed, propped up on his elbow as he tracks her movement around the small room. He waits until she turns around to look at him before giving her a half shrug and a smirk. Rae pulls her mouth into a straight line and turns back to the mirror.

He tosses back the sheet and strides across the room in just his boxers to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She’s still fiddling with the earring, murmuring obscenities under her breath, so he takes advantage of her bare skin and presses a kiss to her neck, rubbing his stubble back and forth until she makes a sound of protest.

“Ugh, go shave, you louse.” She grimaces at him in the mirror, and he laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. She finally gets the earring in, moves on to the other side. He doesn’t let go.

“Do you know what today is?” He asks, studying the movement of her eyes as she shoves the hook through her ear. This one goes in without a struggle, so she meets his gaze and puts a hand on his arm.

“Um, Wednesday?” She asks, eyebrows raised. He grins back at her, but she’s already spun out of his arms and pulled her overnight bag onto the bed and started rummaging through it. She keeps a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, as well a bottle of her favorite shampoo in the shower (He’s never used it when school and work have kept them apart and he’s been missing her. Nope, never.), but she still lugs that bag back and forth. He’d suggested a few weeks ago that she just leave some things here, but she’d just given him a huge roll of her eyes and that had been the end of the discussion. A couple of days later he’d been digging around for a pair of headphones and discovered a bottle of her lotion taking up residence in the nightstand drawer. (He hadn’t pulled it out reverentially and grinned at it for five minutes in soppy silence. Nope, not at all.)

“It’s April 24th.” He announces, and Rae gives him a wide eyed look as she clutches a black shirt and pulls off her nightie. He loses the thread of the conversation for a minute to watching her undress. He likes to watch her get dressed, yeah, but watching her undress… that’s more like his favorite pastime ever. If he had to choose between seeing Bowie live and watching Rae get naked, he’s not sure what he’d pick. Maybe they could see Bowie together and then get naked.

“I’m so glad that you’ve mastered the calendar, Finnley.” She mocks, and a blush colors her cheeks and chest as she notices his lustful gaze. She looks at the floor and shakes her head, but he doesn’t miss the soft smile she wears, or the way she bites her lip. He’s not sure if he’s missed it a single time she’s bitten her lip in the last few months; sometimes he gets a weird twinge and it’s like he can feel it happening even though she’s miles away.

She doesn’t cover up, doesn’t move, just stands there, t-shirt in hand and lets him look at her. It’s another intimacy she’s allowing now, another mark of how far they’ve come in such a short time. He swallows against the lump in his throat. He wants her, of course he wants her. He’s constantly surprised by the insanity of how much he wants her all the time. But this isn’t about wanting her, it’s about getting to have her. Getting to have all of her; bare breasts in the morning, drunken rambling in the middle of the night, soft sweet phone calls in the afternoon.

He steps towards her, and Rae laughs as she holds up a warning finger. He frowns at her, but leans back against the dresser and crosses his arms over his bare torso. She grins and bends down to pick up the bra they’d hastily discarded last night, holds it over her breasts and reaches behind her to fasten it. He sighs. Bye girls, see you soon I hope.

“You were saying?” Rae pulls the shirt over her head and her voice is slightly muffled. He tracks her hands as she pulls it down and smoothes it over her stomach.

“What?” He can’t remember what they were talking about before she was mostly naked. That seems to happen a lot.

“April 24th?” She prods, stepping into a pair of dark jeans, hopping slightly as she pulls them up over her hips. It makes everything jiggle gorgeously, and he moves to adjust himself in his boxers.

“Oh, right.” He’s got to look away so that he can catch up. He stares down at his feet. “It’s April 24th today.”

“Yes, I’m aware. You might have mentioned that.”

He rolls his eyes at her, crosses his arms, tries to radiate annoyance. He’s not annoyed. She’s adorable. But it seems to work anyway, because she comes closer after buttoning her jeans, runs a hand over his shoulder and across his bicep. She smiles tolerantly at him, and he shakes his head as he concedes and gives into the grin.

He uncrosses his arms and lifts a hand to caress the fall of her hair and push it over her shoulder. “It’s four months.” He says, tucking his hand into his favorite spot on the side of her neck.

Rae raises her eyebrows, confused and mocking. She lets her eyes go wide, and he presses his thumb into the hollow just below her cheekbone. “Yes, it is. April is the fourth month, good job buddy.”

He moves to pull his hand away, but she captures his wrist and holds him still, eliciting a smile from him. He forgets sometimes. She’s so clever and teasing that it’s hard to remember that he unsettles her a little bit too. But she gives it away here and there, leaning in to him or forgetting to glance away. He rubs his thumb over her cheek.

“It’s four months for us.” He says softly, and he can tell she still doesn’t understand. “Four months of dating, it’s our four month anniversary.”

Rae laughs out, and it feels like it falls gently into the air between them, fading away before it hits the carpet. She shakes her head and his thumb brushes the corner of her mouth. “That’s not a real thing, Finn.”

“Yes it is.” He scowls, and she moves his arms so that they encircle her waist. She gives him a knowing look, which is admirable considering the smirk that’s lighting up her face. He wants to take a second to appreciate that expression, to enjoy how she can look so happy and so disdainful all at once, but he’s busy being faux-annoyed with her. “It can be if we want it to. And I want it to.”

She cocks her head to the side and looks at him for a minute, and he tries to stay still, stay open. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but she lets him look, so he makes sure to let her look too. As he watches her eyes move, he wonders what she’s trying to find. Whatever it is, he’d give it to her.

“Okay,” she shrugs after she finishes her considering look. A careless smile curls up her lips. “Happy four month anniversary then, Finnley.”

He smiles and tugs her tighter until her hips bump against his. He can’t help but kiss her then, can’t help but rub his nose against hers like the right soppy bastard he’s turned into since knowing her. If last year’s Finn met him now, he’d whop him upside the head. (He knows this because Chop tells him at least twice a week. Like he can talk, last week he’d brought actual color samples to the pub and forced them to discuss ecru versus sandstone for half an hour.) But he doesn’t care anymore. He’d never admit it, but he likes being soppy Finn.

“I want to take you out tonight.” He says against her lips, not caring enough to surrender her mouth in the desire to have her actually understand him. She kisses him again, soft lingering presses of her lips.

“You work on Wednesdays, remember?”

“I traded shifts with Johnny.”

Rae pulls back to look at him, and she’s smiling in a way that makes his ears get hot. So he’s done some planning for this date, so what? She’s going to love it. He’s allowed to plan actual dates once in a while, it doesn’t all have to be making out through whatever is playing at the cinema or drinking with their mates at the pub. He’s so desperate for her all the time, and, thank fuck, she seems to feel the same way about him, so a lot of the time they spend alone together is… horizontal. They go out, but there always seems to be someone else around. Neither of them has a lot of free time, so they double up hanging out with friends and seeing each other. Point being, they’re long overdue for a proper date.

“You switched shifts?” She asks, and he tries to shrug without letting go of her. He tries to play it cool, but he knows she can see his blushing. She reaches up to run her fingers over his right ear, gives it a tug. “You actually made plans for our four month anniversary?”

Finn rolls his eyes and moves his head so that her hand is no longer on his ear. He doesn’t need her to see how hot it gets as a barometer of his chagrin. She’s making this face, with her eyebrows turned in together and her lips flattened and pursed. It’s fucking adorable, and it makes him want to thunk his head against the wall.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” He grunts, reaching down to paw at her ass. It doesn’t make the face go away.

“I love that you made plans for our four month anniversary.” She laughs, and he growls and moves her hips closer to his. He leans over to hide his face in her neck, starts pressing wet kisses against her skin in an effort to distract her. “I love that you care about our four month anniversary.”

That’s enough, he decides, before his entire face is flaming red. So he nips at the spot below her ear that he knows drives her crazy and slips his hand into the hair at the base of her neck, tilting her head for better access. Rae groans, and he sighs as quietly as possible. Thank God that conversation is over. She goes liquid against him, so he moves his mouth more deliberately over her skin.

She tastes like peaches, he doesn’t know why. He’d never liked peaches before, but he sure as shit does now. He starts to work on a hickey, starts to nibble and suck on the sensitive spot on her neck. He likes to mark her, likes to put his claim right there for everyone to see when she forgets and pulls her hair back. This gorgeous girl belongs to someone, someone who takes care of her.

Rae groans, and the sound of her own voice seems to pull her out of the palpable haze that overtakes them when they kiss. She places her palms on his chest and pushes against him. “Finn…”

He moves back, smirking. He can tell his mouth is damp and swollen, and he might feel weird about it if he didn’t know she liked that too. (Rae’s very verbal when she drinks, and her ridiculous fantasies spelled out in her bedroom voice is maybe the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’d seriously thought about finding something to record her, it was so fucking fantastic.) He shoots her a sexy look, waggles his eyebrows at her until she laughs.

“I’m probably late as it is, we don’t have time for that.” Her voice sounds like velvet when she’s worked up, soft and smooth and rich.

“There’s always time for that.” He counters, tugging at her hips again to close the distance between them. Rae groans when she feels him, hot and ready through the thin fabric of his shorts, closing her eyes and letting her head dip back. He takes the opportunity to return his mouth to her neck.

“Finn, I can’t.” She pleads, but her voice is breathy and he thinks that if he does that thing she likes so much, her protesting won’t last long. “Last time, the professor called me out in front of the whole class. It was awful.”

“So skip it.” He mumbles against her skin, relishing the vibrations of her throat as she moans once more.

“Ugh!” She shouts, and shoves him back. His mouth pulls off of her neck with a wet popping sound. Rae steps back a couple of feet and puts her hands up between as a barrier. “You’re the worst!”

“You know you love it.” He says with a grin, takes a step towards her with a bit of a swagger, hips jutting his erection towards her.

She narrows her eyes, shakes her head as she runs her tongue along her top teeth. One of her hands balls up until her index finger is pointed at him in warning. Her mouth moves, but she can’t seem to come up with what to say, so she just grunts and moves around the side of the bed to her bag. He tries to get closer, to touch her again, but she hisses at him and clambers over the bed and out the bedroom door. He laughs and follows her down the hall to where she’s sitting on the couch putting on her Chucks.

“I really have to go to class.” She warns as he enters the room, and he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Just going for coffee, girl. I can keep my hands off you, you know.”

“Yeah right.” He hears her mumble from the other room as he pours water into the coffee maker and turns it on.

“What’s that?” He pops his head around the doorway to look at her, and she shakes her head at him as she stands. She grabs her schoolbag from the hook he’d installed in the hallway for her, tucks her jacket over the strap.

 

“Nothing!” She replies sweetly, and he laughs. She crosses the hall towards him, gives him a quick kiss. “Right, I’ve gotta go. What time tonight, then?”

“Can I pick you up around five?” He asks, and she cocks her head as she considers.

“That’s pretty early. Where are we going?”

“Don’t you worry about it.” He shakes his head, and she wrinkles her nose in response. She stares at him for a moment, bites her lip thoughtfully. Finn places a hand on her arm.

“You won’t tell me where we’re going?” She sounds uncertain, and his brow furrows. He doesn’t understand her hesitance. “Should I dress up?”

He laughs, shakes his head. “Maybe you can wear that little black skirt I like so much?”

“Yeah, but remember what happened last time? We didn’t even make it out of the flat.” She cocks her head and laughs.

“I think I can restrain myself.” He says haughtily, turning to pull a cup from the cabinet and fill it with coffee and the creamer he buys just for her. Rae laughs again as she disappears down the hall, and when she comes back, she’s got her overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

“Okay, I’m actually leaving now.” She says, and he pulls her in with a hand on her butt for a kiss. She laughs against his lips, and he thinks for a second that this is the happiest he’s ever been. She pulls out of the kiss after just a moment, but he tugs her back and presses the travel mug into her hand. Rae smiles and gives him a last peck before walking backwards towards the front door. “Bye dear!”

“Have a good day, darling!” He calls back jovially, moving to lean against the doorjamb and watch her go.

Rae stops just before she gets to the door and darts back to give him one last kiss, her coffee-warmed palm soft against his cheek.

“Happy four month anniversary.” She whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s late picking her up. Which isn’t that big of a deal, she’s not one of those girls who needs their boyfriend to be exactly on time. She’s not high-strung or anything. It’s not that. And it’s only fifteen minutes or so. Normally she wouldn’t care, but tonight it just serves to increase her nervous anticipation.

She knows it’s stupid to be nervous about going on a date with Finn, that it’s silly to be feeling flushed and uncomfortable at the thought of seeing him. She saw him like ten hours ago, anyway. And if this was a normal day, she wouldn’t be sitting here in heels, tapping her shoes on the floor anxiously.

But it’s not a normal day, it’s their four month anniversary. Ridiculous.

And sort of unbelievably amazing.

She definitely hadn’t figured Finn to be one for celebrating arbitrary anniversaries. She hadn’t even known it was their anniversary. For one thing, she’s terrible with dates. For another, four months is not a real anniversary.

Still, she’s wearing uncomfortable lingerie and her tiny black skirt and she bought him a silly card this afternoon. And, she’s curled her hair and put on lipstick like this is a real thing, a big deal. She never wears lipstick. It’s only for Finn, all in anticipation of that moment when she opens the door and he takes half a step back, swallows and licks his lips. She loves that moment. It doesn’t happen very often, but it’s worth taking the extra half hour to curl her hair.

Which is probably going to go flat if he doesn’t show up soon.

She spins around in her desk chair and surveys her small, messy room. Books and papers are strewn haphazardly on her desk, crowding against her computer for space. Without moving anything, she can count six highlighters in various places. The bed is made, just because she needs to feel like she’s got control over something in her life.

It’s been a whirlwind these last few months; a terrifying, confusing, fantastic, triggering whirlwind. Finn is nothing short of amazing, and she’s sort of bonkers about him (okay, completely bonkers), but something about being so completely gone on him is terrifying. She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to look up and realize that he’s been throwing away all those sexy glances on a girl like her. He keeps doing these things- bringing lunch to her at school, leaving gifts on her windowsill, clearing out a drawer for her in his dresser (an empty drawer, she can’t be doing that just yet). It’s wonderful, of course, but sometimes she feels like screaming at him, ‘ _Don’t you know you’re wasting all this on me?_ ’

Kester says it’s just part of the process, that even with as “recovered” as she is these days, she’s still learning to be vulnerable with other people. That it’s a sign of her progress that she can let her guard down with him, even just in fits and starts. She’s trying. She tells him she loves him with shaky fingers and stands still so he can unfathomably devour her with his eyes. It’s hard, but she’s trying. And if anybody is worth the effort it’s the hot-bodied Adonis that she somehow gets to call her boyfriend.

Kester says that she’s got to stop talking that way, even to herself. That she’s got to tell herself that she’s worthy of Finn, worthy of his love and of all the things he does for her without thinking about it. She’s trying that too.

It’s harder, though, to push the bad thoughts away when she’s sitting here waiting after having gotten all dolled up. She can’t help but think back to the last time she got stood up, how it’d felt to be sitting there waiting for a guy who was never going to show, her lipstick lines fading slowly from her teacup. Her chest is getting tight, so she rubs her hands together and stands to collect the empty paper cups that are scattered about and bin them. When that’s done, she lines up her books on the lone bookshelf, the much abused textbooks and the lonely novels pressed side by side. She sweeps the papers into a pile, collects stray pens and markers into the chipped mug from home. She can’t do school work, she’s too buzzy, she’d never be able to focus. So she cleans. The room needs it anyway.

By the time she’s done, he’s half an hour late and she’s biting her lips against tears that are threatening. She tells herself that even if he does stand her up, he’d have a good reason. She reminds herself that he loves her, that he tells her all the time and shows her. She tells herself that it’s fine.

She pulls her valentine out from its secret spot and runs her fingers over the familiar grooves. She makes a soft whine when she sees that a tear is forming in the top right corner. She presses down the pulling paper, smoothes it back with a single finger. She opens the card and runs her fingers over his handwriting without reading the words. He loves her. She knows he loves her.

She’s still caressing the card when a knock sounds on her door. She heaves a sigh and closes her eyes, tilting her head back for a moment. She tucks the card away and takes a deep breath, then rises and smoothes out her skirt and tosses her hair back. She puts her girlfriend face on, curves her lips in a sultry smile and adjusts her hips before she opens the door.

The sight of him hits her hard, and the tears she’d just pushed back spring to her eyes once again. His head is down when she opens the door, so she’s got a breath to look at him and get herself under control before he sees. He lifts his head in what feels like slow motion, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips pursed. But as he glances up at her, a smile breaks over his face like the sunrise.

He loves her.

Finn takes a step back so that he can take her in. She stands still and lets his eyes rake over her, and it feels almost as good as when it’s his hands doing the roaming. A tingle starts somewhere in her stomach. He bites his lip, shakes his head like she’s a present he can’t believe he’s getting. The itchy feeling she’s been plagued with all afternoon fades away.

“God, Rae.” He says, stepping towards her. She falls gratefully into his arms. “You look amazing, girl.”

She buries her face against him, considers leaving a lipstick mark on his neck. He tightens his grip on her, and they stand locked in an embrace in her open doorway for a minute. Eventually he pulls back, like he just has to take another look at her. He touches the hem of her skirt and she grins. It’s so much easier to believe it all when he’s there with her, when his hands can’t seem to stay off of her.

“None of that now.” She says, pulling his hand away and tugging him into her room.

“You seem to be saying that a lot today.”

She walks over to her desk and sits just on the edge of it with her hands behind her. He watches every movement like she’s an oasis in the middle of his desert. She laughs softly at the image and he quirks an eyebrow at her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Rae.” He says suddenly, looking at the floor, clearly contrite. His eyes are pleading when they meet hers again. “It started pissing down all of the sudden and I didn’t have my umbrella. I didn’t want to be soaked through, so I ducked into a shop for a bit until it stopped.”

She takes him in slowly, noting the spots on his gray button down shirt and his dress slacks. He’s wearing dress pants with his sneakers, and she suddenly wants nothing so much as to peel them off of him and lick him from head to toe.  _See, he had a good reason. He always has a good reason. He loves you._

He takes her lustful perusal for forgiveness apparently, as he gives her a cocky grin and steps forward to stand in front of her. She lets her legs fall open and he steps between her thighs, looking down at the newly exposed skin. He doesn’t put his hands on her legs like she expects, but rather pushes back her hair and places a kiss against the corner of her mouth.

“I bought you something.” He says, reaching to pull a folded brown paper bag from his pocket. She can’t help but grin. She puts a hand on his forearm and ducks a little to give the smile to him. Finn’s a little bit pink cheeked as he hands it over; he rolls his eyes at her grin. “It’s not a big deal. I just saw it and thought of you.”

He doesn’t step back to give her space to open it, just tilts his torso a bit further away. She unfolds the crinkly paper and reaches into the bag, pulling out a little souvenir license plate key chain. She flips it over and examines the front.

“Clancy?” She laughs, surprised and delighted.

Finn shrugs and rubs at his ear. “I thought it’d make you laugh.”

So she does, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in until her lips are near his ear. She intends to tell him she loves it, but it comes out different.

“I love you.”

—

They’re three stations past the university on the tube when it occurs to her to ask where they’re going. He’s got a proprietary hand on her thigh, and she’s been leaning her head against his shoulder in comfortable silence, snuggled around his arm. She feels like they’re in a book, like the people around them see a couple in love when they look at them, rather than a fit lad and a big girl. She’s been smiling since they left her room.

“Where are we going?”

Finn kisses the top of her head, reaches across his body to play with her fingers. She thinks that even if they don’t go anywhere, this is still a pretty good date.

“You’ll see.” He murmurs against her hair, and they fall back into the gentle silence. She rests her chin on his shoulder and looks up at his profile. God, he’s so handsome. She can’t believe she gets to touch him, gets to look at him all she wants. She’s so happy that a wave of sadness washes over her, clogging her throat and pinching her eyes. He glances over and she doesn’t look away.

They just look at each other, and it’s so much that she wants to cry, she’s too full. He seems to sense something in her and bends to give her a soft lingering kiss. What they must look like then, she thinks. In that moment, she feels beautiful with him. He loves her so much that she’s got to be beautiful for everyone to see.

The mood is a tangible thing between them, and he smiles as he pulls out of the kiss. Rae turns her head and looks across the aisle. There’s an elderly woman opposite them wearing a green knit hat and doing something with yarn, Rae’s not sure what. The woman gives Rae a beaming smile and Rae nods back.

It’s four more stops before their destination, and though Rae’s familiar enough with the tube that she should have some idea of where they are, she’s lost all sense of space in the bubble of warmth she’s been enjoying with him. He pulls her to her feet and grabs her hand while they wait to exit. As she walks by the door, the elderly woman touches her hand, and for a beautiful shining moment, Rae feels like the entire world is absolutely perfect. It’s such a strange sensation that she wavers in her heels, and Finn tucks an arm across her back to steady her. Rae looks down at the woman, but she’s turned forward like it’s never happened. Rae blinks as they exit.

Finn’s grinning as they head up the stairs to the street, and he’s smug and adorable and she wants to pull him into the nearest bathroom and have her way with him. But last time, she’d stuck her hand into a sink full of grimy water in a public restroom and that had effectively killed her sex in the bathroom fantasy. They don’t talk as they walk towards whatever destination he has in mind, though she’s dying to ask where they’re going.

She laughs as he tugs her along, and it’s almost like she can see the sound sparkling crystalline down the street behind her. It’s hard in her heels, and she can tell that he’s slowing his pace for her. She wants to run, wants to be one of those tiny girls who can jog in their heels, but she also wants to make it to their destination without breaking her neck. So she keeps pace as best as she can, focuses on their hands caught together, and his shoulders in front of her. She thinks that she’d probably be okay going anywhere as long as it was his shoulders she was following.

Abruptly, he stops, and though she’s perfectly capable of stopping in time, she lets her body bump up against his. Because she wants to, because it’s nice to touch him, because he catches her up with his arm and smiles at her.  

“So, we’re here.” He says, and Rae looks in front of them to find a set of steps leading to an angular concrete building with a big glass lobby. To the right of the building is a grassy area with a fountain, and bizarrely, a huge red dinosaur trapped in a neon blue cage. She shoots Finn a questioning look, but he just offers a proud and somehow uncertain smile and leads her towards the door.

“The art museum?” She asks, the delight in her voice evident even to her.

Finn laughs, his grin growing. He rubs at his wrist for a moment. “They’ve got a Warhol exhibit that I thought you’d be into.” He shrugs.

She grabs his wrist and tugs him close, slings an arm across shoulders in a half hug. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Piss off.” He mumbles, a flush coloring his cheeks. She kisses the color. She feels pink, like the whole world is made out of hues of pink just for her tonight. “C’mon.”

Finn buys their tickets, and Rae smiles at the woman behind the counter as she explains where the new exhibits are and circles areas on a paper map. Rae smiles at another young woman in a pale green dress, holding the hand of a boy who’d had the same idea. She smiles at the security guard with the curling ear piece at the end of the counter. She smiles at the pale pretty blonde who hands out pamphlets in the hallway, grins as she hands them a bright red square of paper proclaiming ‘I’m here on a date.’ Sometimes she feels threatened by thin, beautiful women when she’s with Finn. But not tonight, tonight her smiles are easy and she can afford to give them away for free.

Finn’s got a tight grip on her hand as he steers them through the museum, so she watches him instead of where they’re going. She appreciates the way the soft warm lighting gilds his jaw until he looks like he’s coated in honey. She tracks the movement of the muscles underneath the collar and shoulder of his shirt, the way the pale gray fabric bunches and shifts as their arms swing between them. She studies the contrast between his coarse, big paw of a hand and her smaller paler one. She thinks that he belongs here, more than any famous painting or ancient sculpture. He’s art all on his own.

—

Finn doesn’t know shit about art. He’d seriously debated about whether or not to bring her here, whether or not his surety that she’d enjoy it would balance out his discomfort. He’s watching her mostly, as they stroll around the room (he’s pretty sure he’s never strolled before), keeping a watchful eye on her expression.

There’s a pretty significant chance that this is the night the jig will be up, when she’ll finally see him for the complete idiot he is, ditch him and take up with that kid in the top hat who’s wheedling on about the nouveau renaissance, whatever that is. He’s always been overlaid with a veneer of coolness, of cigarettes and sneers and rock music. But this is the longest relationship he’s ever had, and he knows that Rae’s seeing that veneer wear thin, that with every passing day, more and more of the underneath stuff is showing; he’s not as smart as she is, he’s not as quick or funny. He’s less than her in so many ways.

He doesn’t doubt that she loves him. He can see it in the way she lingers, the softness of her mouth when she doesn’t think he’s looking. He just worries that one of these days, she’s gonna see something in him that makes her… stop. He’s familiar with the way love halts, with the way things turn a corner all of a sudden and are gone.

And here, among all this obvious beauty, it seems much more likely that she’d be able to spot that he’s a fake.  So he looks to her.

Rae’s a bit dreamy here, softer in a way that he couldn’t have anticipated. She hums under her breath, coos thoughtfully. He wishes he could see what she sees, that he could slip behind her eyes and understand why that painting with the flowers makes her step in closer and cock her head, why that series of rectangles makes her lips curve up. He’s so busy guessing at her opinions that he forgets to look to find any of his own.

Eventually, they find themselves in the classics gallery, where every painting is so detailed and elaborate that Rae pauses to stare at each one for several minutes. She tucks her arm in his, leans against him with her head on his shoulder and sighs. He kisses her hair, and then finally, an hour into the museum, he sees.

At first he’s only noticing the richness, how ornate and intricate it is. The colors, the gold and silver and reds. The fabrics that are painted so exactly that he can almost feel the velvet and silk. Then he sees the movement, the way the clouds swirl and the flag shifts in an invisible wind. The people… the people are so complex, writhing and turning and changing. He’s marveling at how this painter has managed to capture so much action in a still image. And then, towards the bottom, his eyes catch on the women and stick.

He feels a little bit guilty, they’re naked and he’s staring at them right in front of his girlfriend. But he can’t seem to stop. He thinks he might even be leaning in a. They’re sensual, all soft lines and rolling curves and pale skin. He studies the way their bodies crease, the obvious weight of their breasts, the firm muscles that bulge in their thighs. They’re beautiful, beautiful the way Rae is. There’s something about the dip of that one’s belly button, the curve of her hip that’s exactly like Rae’s. He pulls his arm from hers and wraps it around her, lets it rest on her hip so he can be sure.

Rae shifts out of his grip, and he has to rip his eyes away from the painting to look over at her. She tugs on the lapels of his blazer until he turns toward her, then slides her hands beneath the jacket along his sides and presses her body against his.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, lips curved mysteriously. “You’ve been making all these noises. I’m dying to know what’s going on in there.”

He bends to kiss her, quick and shallow. She laughs when he pulls away.

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of it that easily. Tell me what you think of this one.” She tugs at him until he’s facing the wall again, and his eyes return to the naked, writhing women.

“I’m thinking… that it’s beautiful.” He offers half-heartedly, smiling at her dubious smirk. “I like… how everything is moving. The painting is still, but everything in it is moving.” Rae smiles, nods thoughtfully, and he represses the desire to sigh in relief. “And I like that, even though all these people are bowing down to that fancy lady, and she’s the center or whatever, these ones are the pretty ones.”

He points to the women towards the bottom, and Rae studies him for a long minute. He can’t tell what’s happening, but he can tell that it’s sort of important. He can feel that something’s shifting between them, some unseen current has washed away more of his veneer. He holds his breath and meets her eyes, tries to be steady, tries to put it all there on his face; he knows he’s totally at her mercy, that she’s the one who is doing the choosing here.

Rae’s eyes turn blazing and she tugs at him again until he’s facing her, wraps her arms around his neck. He thinks he sees her eyes fill with tears before she hugs him tightly and her face is hidden.

“God, Finn.” She whispers fiercely, and he tightens his arms around her. She presses feverish kisses against his neck.

They stand together before  _The Disembarkation at Marseille_ , wrapped up in each other, and Finn thinks to himself that this moment is the most beautiful thing this museum has ever seen.

—

They find themselves in a gallery of miniatures, of painstakingly recreated historical rooms. Rae seems delighted and fascinated, and she squints and bends to peer into each one for what feels like an exorbitant amount of time. He’s not really interested, and with the way the room is set up, he can’t really watch her, so he finds himself staring dazedly before one of the bigger, simpler rooms. He thinks it looks a little like his Dad’s house, with the way the stairs are and the blue sofa.

He can hear Rae making little noises behind him, but he’s remembering how they’d taken the train down so Rae could meet his Dad over Easter break. Gary had been thrilled to meet her, had turned to putty in Rae’s hands within minutes. Finn would have thought it pathetic if he wasn’t painfully aware that he was exactly the same way. It’d gone well, much better than the disastrous trip to her Mums just a couple of weeks later.

Sunday morning, Easter morning, Finn had come downstairs early to make coffee and found his Dad already in the kitchen frying bacon. He’d settled himself at the counter, Gary’d handed him a mug, and they’d both grinned at the smoothness of the almost forgotten routine. They laughed and teased each other, Finn about his Dad’s ever-receding stubbled hairline, Gary about Finn’s recently discarded earring. The pleasant presence of Rae’s sleeping body upstairs had seeped through Finn, warmed him up with fond, easy smiles and an unfamiliar sense of rightness.

After a while, his Dad had seemed to feel it too, as he’d looked towards the ceiling and grinned. “Rae’s great. I think Nan would have really liked her.”

Finn’d scoffed a little and shot back, “Are you kidding? Nan would have loved her.”

Gary’s eyes were heavy on him then, and Finn blushed without knowing why. His Dad considered him for a long minute, his head cocked to the side, before asking, “Do you love her, Finn?”

Finn studied the swirls of milk in his coffee for a long minute, then looked up with a grin. “Yeah, I do… I think she might be it for me. Is that crazy?”

Gary shook his head, flipped the bacon in the skillet, turned to smirk at his son. “Maybe a little.”

Finn laughed. “I’m fuckin’ crazy about her, Dad.”

“Language.”

“Sorry.” Finn winced. “It’s just… It’s scary and wonderful and I don’t know. Just everything. A lot, you know.”

Gary’d turned off the burner and put a plate of bacon on the counter before his son, who immediately dug in. Silence fell as the two of them ate, both lost in thought. After a few minutes, he’d shifted in his chair to look at Finn. “Sometimes you just know, I guess. I’m happy for you, Finn.”

Finn’d toed at the support bars of his chair and asked the scary thing that had been niggling in the back of his head for the last few weeks. “Dad, was it like that for you and Mum? Did you just know?”

Gary’d laughed. “Oh God, not at all. It was a long slow burn for us. I’m not sure I was ever sure.” He’d shaken his head, and reached out to put his bare foot over Finn’s on the rung of the chair. “But that doesn’t mean anything. You remember about Nan and Pop, don’t you? They got married two months after they met, and they were married fifty-six years, until he passed. I don’t know how it works, Finn. I don’t know who decides who gets to be in love for fifty years and who only gets five.”

Finn’d studied his Dad’s face then, looking for traces of the anger he’d burned with after his Mum had left, but Gary’d only looked a little sad, regretful maybe. “I don’t know why some people know right away that someone is the one, and why some people question it even after they’re married. I don’t know. But I love you, and I trust you, and I think Rae’s pretty fucking fantastic, so…” Gary’d shrugged, given Finn that familiar, teasing I-know-better-than-you grin. “I’ve got Nan’s ring upstairs.”

“Oh God no.” Finn had groaned, feeling sweaty and anxious at the thought of Rae and the ring both upstairs together. “I’m definitely not ready for that.”

“You just said-”

“She’s not ready then! She won’t even put her stuff in a drawer.”

Gary’d chuckled as he rose from his chair to give Finn a one-armed hug and press a kiss to his hair. He’d kept a hand on Finn’s shoulder and shook him gently, grinning as he offered his best fatherly advice.  “Good luck, kid.”

Warm fingers slipping into his palm brings Finn back to the present, and he shakes his head to clear away the conversation. Rae puts her other hand on his shoulder and jostles him a little.

“I think you’ve memorized that one by now.” She teases. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re not really a fan of the miniatures? We’ll go find something else, something you’ll actually like.”

He starts to tell her it’s fine, that she can look as long as she wants, that he will literally give her anything she wants for the rest of their lives, but he reconsiders and pulls his lips into a flat line, wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, that seems like a good plan.”

—

They meander slowly through the museum and she rarely stops touching him in some way, and it’s everything he wants. They laugh together in the Warhol exhibit, go into a room filled with giant silver balloons and kick them around until a museum attendant asks them to please keep it down. They sit together and watch a Warhol film of a naked man sleeping, and the muscles in his back remind Finn of the painting upstairs. Rae puts a hand on his thigh, high, and he raises his eyebrows at her until she bites her lip and puts her hand back in her own lap. But a minute later, she presses a slow, wet kiss to that spot just below his ear that he likes.

When they come across the pictures of Andy in drag, Rae considers him, tells him that he’s so pretty, all it would take to make him a stunning lady is a bit of lipstick and blush. She says he wouldn’t even need a wig, since he refuses to get his hair cut. He laughs and replies that the only lipstick he wants to wear is hers. Then he runs his thumb over her bottom lip, slowly, tugging it down until she shivers. Everything gets hot for a moment, and he considers asking her if she wants to go home. Rae swallows and shakes her head, turns away before he gets the chance. She only goes a few steps before she comes back to grab his hand.

She gets quiet again as they make it to the modern art. She stands before a painting of dark shapes towering towards a purple sky and puts a hand on her chest. When he gives her a questioning look, she says, “It just makes you feel a lot of different things all at once, doesn’t it?” and he wonders how she always knows how to say what she means. He understands what she’s saying, recognizes it from the times when he looks at her and can’t catch his breath from all the things he didn’t know he could feel. He nods and they move on, the only sound her heels clicking gently on the tile floor.

They find their way into an exhibit; a sign outside tells them it’s called the Firefly Room, and even though he knows nothing about art, he can tell that this is special, stunning. It’s a dark room with mirrored walls and a reflective floor, and hanging from the ceiling are hundreds of tiny lights that flicker and change color. It looks like a room filled with stars, immeasurable space for them to explore together, somehow caught in the confines of a ten by ten room.

Rae gasps in wonder, spinning slowly in a circle and letting her fingers catch in the faux-stars. It’s so dark in the room that he can’t make out her features, she’s just an outline surrounded by tiny dots of light. It makes something in him burn and hiss, so he conquers the distance between them and wraps her in his arms. And then they kiss and kiss like they’re part of the endless reflections, like they are infinite. And Finn thinks about fifty years and forever. And so he kisses her more.

—

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Rae says, laying her menu down on the tiny table. “Izzy asked me to be a bridesmaid today at lunch!”

“Yeah?” A slow grin slides over his face. He’d known it was happening, but not today. “Nice. I think you’ll make a pretty good bridesmaid.”

Rae grins and returns to studying her menu. They’ve ended up at what is intimidatingly called a ‘wine bar’ a couple of blocks away from the museum. This restaurant makes him nervous, twitchy. He’s spent his dating career stalwartly avoiding places like this; it’s pretentious and fancy and he doesn’t know how to pronounce most of the things on the menu, let alone anything about wine. But they’ve got this little outdoor patio all strung up with fairy lights and mismatched candles everywhere, and when they’d walked by and he’d seen the way Rae’d practically swooned, he knew this was the place.

“Right, well I’ve got no idea what any of this is.” She says, snapping the menu shut. “I say we just point to some things and see what we end up with.”

He laughs and puts his menu down on top of hers. “I’m definitely out of my depth. We’ll just wing it, shall we?”

Rae grins and looks up at him from under her eyelashes, running her finger along the tabletop absently. He clears his throat. “So… I guess if I’m to be a bridesmaid, that means we have to stay together until the wedding.”

“Oh, were you planning on breaking up before then?”

“Well, yeah.” She says, coy and teasing. “I figured six more weeks, tops, before I binned ya.”

He laughs, though he doesn’t find it especially funny. “Well, not if I break up with you first. Four weeks and four days seems like a pretty decent go of it.”

They laugh, and his unease settles into caution. The waitress comes up, and Finn points to a couple of things on the menu without looking. She suggests a wine, and he looks to Rae’s shrug before he agrees. He’s relieved that the ordering is over, that he didn’t make an arse of himself, but he’s also nervous about the conversation he’s about to start.

“This is actually my longest relationship.” He admits carefully. “I’ve dated a lot, but never any one person for very long.”

“I know,” she offers a sympathetic smile. “Izzy told me all about how you’ve shagged half the girls at home and at least a quarter of the ones here.”

He swallows. He’s never been ashamed of his past before, pulling girls was just something you did. He’d never even considered that it could be something he’d look back on with regret. “Does that bother you? That I’ve been… around a bit?”

“Honestly?” She asks, and he takes a gulp of his water, braces for the impact. “A little.” She looks down at the table for a moment, but meets his gaze with a sad sort of smile when she speaks again. “It’s hard not to think about how I measure up. Not to wonder if when you’re looking at me and I don’t know what you’re thinking, you’re comparing me to all those girls.”

“There’s no comparison,” he says as sincerely as he can, tries to will his eyes to radiate all the love and regret he’s feeling. “Seriously, Rae. Nobody could ever compare to you. Not even a little bit. You’re…” He shakes his head. “This, us, it’s different. I’ve never… with someone. I…”

“It’s okay.” She puts her hand over his on the table, eyes warm and reassuring. “It only bothers me a little. I wouldn’t want to change your past. It makes you you. And I suspect it’s also what makes you so amazing in bed.”

Finn barks a laugh as relief swirls through him. The waitress drops off their wine, and he offers her a smile and a thank you. Rae lifts her glass and swirls the wine, sniffs it pointedly.“Very good, very good sir. What shall we toast to? Arbitrary anniversaries?”

“Hey!” He protests, but he’s laughing. “It’s not arbitrary! And even if it is, it’s worth it to see you in that skirt again. I’ve missed that skirt.” Rae tugs at her hem, does that adorable little head tilt that he loves so much. As they touch glasses, he says, “To four months.”

The wine is good, and after a couple of sips, he can feel the tension draining from his shoulders. Rae’s cheeks flush, and he wonders if they’ve ever shared a bottle of red wine before. He makes a note to buy one soon. She’s so pretty with that color on her cheeks, and he’s thinking about other places he’s put color on her skin and that tiny little skirt and how long dinner has to last.

Rae giggles. “You’re so obvious, you know?”

“What?”

“When you’re thinking about sex, it’s so obvious. And constant. We were having a conversation.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not my fault. You’re very distracting.” She shakes her head. “Fine then. What’s your longest relationship?”

Rae cocks her head, her smile slipping a little. He wonders at the change. She licks her lips before flippantly offering, “almost a year.”

“A year?” He asks, eyebrows shooting up. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, why it’s never occurred to him before that Rae would of course be able to hold down a lasting relationship. He’d figured there were other guys, how could there not be? But he’d never really thought about the other guys before now.

“Almost.” She shrugs a shoulder, shakes her hair back. “In college. It wasn’t the same though.” She must see something in his face, because she puts her hand over his again. “It’s never been like this. Before. For me. I’ve never been in love like this.”

“Like this?” He can’t help asking. He wants more, so much more.

She smiles and ducks her head, takes another sip of her wine. “Let’s just say,” she takes a deep breath, “Finn, our four months have been a dream. I can’t believe that I’m allowed to be this happy. I can’t believe it’s real.”

He wants to round the table and kiss her then, show her how he feels the way he knows best. He squeezes her hand and chokes out, “I know what you mean,” around the lump in his throat.

And then they have one of those moments, the ones like in the movies, the ones he still can’t believe are actually happening to him. They look at each other across the table, and the candlelight flickers across Rae’s face, and everything slows and fuzzes and even the air fills up with how much he loves her.

Rae looks away first, eyes big and damp. She breathes a disbelieving sort of laugh and shakes her head. He watches the line of her throat as she swallows. “But, um, yeah. Four months. I can’t believe you’ve never stuck it out for longer than four months.”

“Well, I think technically there was a girl I was hooking up with for a little longer than four months. Does that count?”

“No, it does not. And that’s quite a pathetic try.” She gives him a pitying look, then laughs suddenly as something occurs to her. “Ha, this is like your relationship trial run.”

“No.” He says, very seriously, and watches as the grin slips off her face. “Listen, Rae. Okay?” She nods. “None of this is a trial for me. It’s not getting ready for something. This is the something.”

Rae’s eyes are wide and shining, and he thinks for a moment that he’s fucked it up and scared her off. But it’s out now, and he can’t take it back, and honestly he doesn’t want to. Because he knows they’re not ready for Nan’s ring yet, not anywhere close really, but he also knows that it’s already Rae’s. Sometimes you just know, and maybe Rae doesn’t, but he does.

“Izzy asked me last week what I thought about her asking you. If I thought it would be weird because we hadn’t been together that long and the wedding is still a ways off and maybe we wouldn’t be together by that point. You know what I said?” Rae shakes her head dazedly, bites her lip. “I said, of course we would. Because I’m not letting you go.”

Rae sniffles, and for a long minute, he’s not sure which way it’ll go. Her eyebrows tremble and her lip quivers where it’s still trapped between her teeth, and she’s pale with bright spots of pink over her cheekbones and God, he loves her so much.

And then, she smiles. It’s wide and teary and gorgeous. She laughs a little, rubs her tongue over her back teeth and reaches to run her fingers along the back of his hand. “Don’t, okay? I know I’m not easy, that I make things harder than I need to sometimes.” He raises his eyebrows and grins, and she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know. But… this is different, and I don’t want to mess it up. I’m…” Rae pauses and wipes at the few tears that have escaped her lashes. Finn smiles at her, squeezes her hand and tries to radiate reassurance.

“Hey…” He says, but she shakes her head.

“When Izzy asked me, I didn’t even hesitate. It didn’t even occur to me for a second that you might not be… my Finn this time next year.” She laughs. “I know I’m being a pain about the drawer and stuff, but I’m in this. I don’t want to go anywhere. Maybe ever.”

This time, he doesn’t stop himself from moving around the table to kiss her. And through the warmth of the wine on her tongue, he tastes something like a promise.

—

Later that night, back at his flat, they lie together as they catch their breath. Rae giggles, presses her face into his side, her breath tickling his bare skin.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, tugging her up to the pillow beside him.

“Can we do five months, too? I think I like anniversaries.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Images: Peter Paul Reubens, “The Disembarkation at Merseilles” and Yayoi Kusama, The Firefly Room

**Author's Note:**

> I'm adding a little bit of a bonus to this fic, as a second chapter. I had great intentions of writing their whole date and being adorable mushy gushy cuteness all around, but I never finished and I'm not sure I ever will. But I did write another section of it that I liked and never posted, so I'm just going to sneak it in here for anyone who finds it! Enjoy the non-tumblr published bonus!


End file.
